Chapter 35 He Stands Up for Her
The next morning, Scarlett showed up to breakfast sporting dark circles under her eyes that could rival a raccoon's. Even Yara noticed, her little face scrunching up with concern as she stared across the table.
"Mommy, did you have a nightmare again?"
Scarlett had a history of bad dreams. Whenever they struck, she'd wake up looking like she'd gone ten rounds in a boxing ring. It was her go-to excuse, and Yara had learned to recognize the signs.
"Yeah, sweetheart." Scarlett's voice came out tired.
Last night's nightmare had been worse than usual. Way worse. The faceless man who usually haunted her dreams had finally gotten a face—and of course it had to be Ambrose's. The whole thing was mortifying.
"Then after you drop me off, you should go straight home and sleep," Yara said with the kind of bossy authority only a five-year-old could pull off.
Warmth bloomed in Scarlett's chest. With Yara's concern wrapping around her like a security blanket, all her worries seemed to evaporate.
At seven-thirty, Scarlett buckled Yara into the car for the drive to preschool. The whole way there, Yara kept up a steady stream of chatter designed to cheer her up, and it worked. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Scarlett's mood matched the brilliant sunshine streaming through the windows.
She'd barely made it three steps toward the entrance, Yara's small hand tucked in hers, when her daughter's voice rang out bright and clear.
"Ambrose!"
Then Yara froze, her grip tightening. "Hayden?" she murmured, confused. "Wait, why is Hayden with Ambrose? Do they know each other?"
Scarlett's gaze followed Yara's, landing on the pair standing near the entrance. Hayden stood beside Ambrose, wearing his usual stoic expression—an expression that was, she now realized, a mirror image of the man beside him.
Oh god. It finally clicked. That's why Hayden had always seemed vaguely familiar. He looked exactly like a miniature version of Ambrose.
"Mommy, is Ambrose Hayden's dad?" Yara had clearly made the same connection, her eyes going wide.
Scarlett nodded. "Yep. Hayden's mysterious father? That's him."
Yara's entire face lit up like Christmas morning. "So Ambrose is Hayden's dad! That's actually pretty cool."
Before Scarlett could stop her, Yara yanked her hand free and took off running. She skidded to a stop right in front of Ambrose, tilting her head back to look up at him with stars in her eyes.
Ambrose's hand came down to ruffle her hair, his expression softening just a fraction.
"Good morning."
After greeting him, Yara spun toward Hayden. "Hayden! Your dad is Ambrose! How cool is that?"
Hayden's face remained blank, but he gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Mission accomplished, Yara bounded back to Scarlett's side. Meanwhile, Scarlett stood frozen several feet away, her treacherous brain deciding this was the perfect moment to replay last night's dream in vivid detail. Her eyes met Ambrose's for a split second before she jerked her gaze away, heat crawling up her neck. She grabbed Yara's hand and picked up the pace, practically speed-walking like something was chasing her.
Ambrose watched her retreat, his expression unreadable.
Hayden, however, kept his eyes locked on Scarlett's back. Ambrose noticed.
"You really like Yara's mom, don't you?"
Hayden looked up at him but said nothing. Ambrose continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "She's going through a divorce right now. If you genuinely care about her, just tell me. I can make arrangements for you two to spend time together."
He paused. "But if you don't speak up, there's nothing I can do."
Hayden turned and walked through the preschool gates without a word, his tiny face giving nothing away. Ambrose didn't push. There was no point rushing this.
After watching Yara disappear inside, Scarlett turned to leave—only to hear Ambrose call out behind her.
"Wait."
She had no choice but to stop. When she turned around, her stupid brain immediately served up another highlight reel from last night's dream. Embarrassment flooded through her, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes.
"Mr. Boleyn, did you need something?"
Before Ambrose could answer, a man in an expensive suit approached, his face lighting up with recognition.
"Mr. Boleyn! What a pleasant surprise running into you here!" He extended his hand, his hair gelled within an inch of its life.
Ambrose barely glanced at him. "Can I help you?"
The man faltered but recovered quickly, nodding. "Just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Yves Foster, CEO of Quantum Leap Enterprises."
He fumbled in his briefcase and produced a business card.
Seeing Ambrose occupied, Scarlett turned to leave—and found her path blocked by yesterday's hostile parent. She looked up, her jaw tightening.
"Something I can do for you?" Her voice came out flat and cold.
"I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face here. Do yourself a favor and leave before we parents band together and kick your kid out."
In the past, Scarlett would have kept her mouth shut, choosing peace over confrontation. But she was done playing nice.
"On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that you're husband-hunting trash. Like mother, like daughter, right? My girl told me your daughter won't leave Hayden alone. Clearly, she learned that clingy behavior from you. We don't need kids like that corrupting ours. So get lost."
Word had spread that Hayden was Ambrose's son, and now that everyone knew Hayden only interacted with Yara, the other parents were feeling petty and territorial.
Scarlett could take insults aimed at her. She'd developed thick skin over the years. But nobody—absolutely nobody—talked about Yara that way.
"You're judging without knowing any facts. With that kind of logic, your kid probably turned out just as awful as you. Maybe she's the one corrupting everyone else. So maybe you should get lost."
The woman's face went purple with rage. "Watch your mouth, you homewrecking slut!"
Her hand flew up, aiming straight for Scarlett's face—and stopped mid-air, caught in an iron grip.
"Can't win with words, so you resort to violence? Classy."
The woman whirled around and came face-to-face with Ambrose's icy stare. She actually shivered, though her mouth kept running. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"I don't hit women." His voice was soft, deadly. "I suggest you don't make me break that rule."
The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Even someone as oblivious as this woman could sense the danger radiating off him. She fell silent.
"Yves! Get over here! This man's grabbing me!"
Yves appeared, looking like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He immediately turned on his wife.
"Are you blind? This is Mr. Boleyn! Show some respect!"
Then he pivoted to Ambrose, practically groveling. "Mr. Boleyn, I deeply apologize for my wife's behavior. Please forgive her rudeness."
Ambrose released the woman with barely concealed disgust. "Control your wife. Next time, I won't be so understanding."
"Of course, of course." Yves bobbed his head frantically.
The woman, finally recognizing who Ambrose was, switched tactics immediately, her expression turning sickeningly sweet. "Mr. Boleyn, I'm so sorry—"
Those cold eyes fixed on her. "Get lost."
Yves grabbed his wife's arm and dragged her away before she could cause any more damage.
The morning rush meant most parents were too busy shuttling their kids inside and racing off to work to notice the drama. Small mercies.
Once her antagonist disappeared, Scarlett turned to leave—but Ambrose fell into step beside her.
"Mr. Boleyn, if you need something, we can discuss it over the phone. We probably shouldn't be seen together right now." She kept her voice low, glancing around nervously.
After yesterday's scene with Opal, the last thing Scarlett needed was more ammunition for the Ross family to use against her. She couldn't afford another scandal.
Ambrose matched her pace easily. "What are you so afraid of?"